S I G N S

So...

So...

What if...

That person or thing you've so desperately been clinging to really is the hand of fate at work?

Just, maybe not in the way you'd wanted.

You've been asking for signs. 

"If xyz happens, then I'll know it was meant to be..."

"Please universe, just one little thing to show me..."

10 things go horribly wrong, but that one tiny miracle occurs and you run with it.

But the signs were already there.

The universe placed this person or thing directly in your path as a lesson in how to let go.

You don't stand in a burning house, hoping the sprinklers will save you when there's an open door right in front of you. I know you're worried about losing all your photos, your heirlooms, all the memories that made this house feel like a home, but in the end, it's still just a house, and you burning to death with it isn't going to make the water come any faster. 

That pain you're feeling is a sign. That desperation in your heart as you look for any teeny, tiny reason to justify staying is a sign. Those prayers that go unanswered are signs. Your inability to move passed any of it because not one single, solid thing has happened to suggest the future will be different is a sign.

lala la la la lala.

Have a wonderful day. <3

Gebo

Post-Birthday Things

Well, that's it. I'm 42. Guess I'll go die now.

Fucking Ancient

But, living out of a sense of pure spite is still an option, so maybe I'll try that for a bit.

Actually, I had a pretty fantastic weekend. I got books. I got tarot. I got a nifty little crystal cicada from one of my dear friends. I'm so predictable. I don't think that's a bad thing.

I've realized today that I'm apparently the world's greatest therapist, and I fucking hate it. Now, disclaimer: I'm just as guilty as anyone else in the world when it comes to bitching about relationship issues - parents, boyfriends, children, co-workers, friends. Half of the fucking shit I write here is just me whining endlessly about the past and done. But my god, dude, I have friends who hit me up every single day to moan about that horrible thing their boyfriend has been doing for the past 3 years. I have other friends who only hit me up when they need to rant about that thing their husband has been doing for 15 years, and then I don't hear from them again for 6 months.

The men, though...the men are the worst. I mean, at least with the women, it's relatable. Shit I've gone through, myself.

"I found his secret stash of barely legal..."

"We never do anything romantic anymore..."

"He forgot my birthday/anniversary/…"

I get that stuff. I do get tired of hearing it over and over and over, but I understand it. I can wrap my head around it. These men, though, they are out of their fucking minds.

"I know I cheated, but she doesn't get to decide to just break up!"

"Just because I missed the birth of our child because I was too hung over to drive her to the hospital, doesn't mean I don't care!"

"Hey Nymphae, I think you're really hot. Here's a compliment. Now, let me ruin it by telling you about the hot 19 year old I'm trying to bang."

Dude, wtf? No, seriously, what in the ever loving shit is wrong with you?

I don't know, maybe I just attract crazy. 

 

B I T C H F E S T: T U E S D A Y E D I T I O N

ERMAHGERD.

Remember, this is just my way of processing. I'm not crazy, I'm p-r-o-c-e-s-s-i-n-g! Get it? Got it? Good. 

Firstly, lemme process ya this cute alarm clock I've had now for almost 20 years, just to make things nice and easy. We'll jump off the deep end in just a tek.

Ready!

Set!

GO!

It's pink! It's a piano! And most of all, It's Hello Kitty!

The CD player isn't working. I don't know if that's just because it's old, or because all my CDs are jacked up (seriously, all CD-R, all left in my hot ass car for approx. 84 years, manhandled, etc). BUT, the alarm works. The radio works. I can pick up all the local country and gospel stations I totally do not care about at all. Huzzah, mofos.

I don't know where I'm gonna put it, but here it is.

So, now that I've discussed something happy and light and fluffy, please allow me to crush it with something dark and icky and blargh. 

A conversation I had today got me thinking about some thaaangs, like how I've (until recently) always thought of myself as an introvert, but the more I've branched out, the more I've realized that I am....probably still an introvert, but not nearly as much of one as I thought.

I'm not sure how I always found myself in such fucked up situations, but I guess that's not unusual when you come from a fucked up background. Fucked up is familiar, it's safe, it's expected and known. So I don't know, maybe we're just drawn to those people and things that feel like home to us. 

Anywhom, I was having a conversation today that just reminded me of the reasons I hid from the world in the first place. Things I still struggle with right now like:

• "Believe me, you wouldn't wanna go anyway. It's boring." - in response to me wanting to tag along to something like a rave or concert
• "You don't wanna hang out with them, anyway." - in response to me wanting to meet people they seemed to be hanging out with pretty regularly
• "Only trashy people talk about their dirty laundry, I can't believe you'd do this to us! YOU are making me look bad!" - in response to talking to people about getting hit or cheated on or, you know, something else that was totally your fault because you should have known.

 Then there's like a billion other things that contribute to your reclusive state, like how you're a big, fat, boring, ugly nobody and how can anyone possibly want to even be in the same room with you? You're a burden to the people you love when they could be out living their best lives, if only you hadn't come along and fucked that all up. You're the reason they act like they do. You're responsible for everything, or you would be if anything had ever happened, which it didn't. Oh, I know you have screenshots, but that doesn't prove anything except what a psycho you are!

And you know what? It's all fucking bullshit.

Let me fucking tell you how shocked, SHOCKED,  I was when I realized oh holy fuck! People like me? Even though I'm boring and ugly and stupid and ugly? 

But it gets even crazier than that. There are some people who think I'm kinda cool. There are some people who think I'm kinda funny. There are some people who think I'm kinda hot. Insane, I know! I didn't believe it either, at first, not when it was so easy for an ex to go try to mack on some 14 year old or cry about how badly I'd ruined his life.

I guess that's when it slowly hit me, that I'd been living my life based on the shitty, stupid opinions of just a handful of shitty, stupid people. Like how I spent years not singing aloud because I have a horrible parent who openly mocked me in front of all our neighbors during a party. Nobody laughed at that shitty parent of mine (and looking back, I'm sure they were actually horrified...I would be), but I've been careful not to even hum in from others ever since, and that was almost 30 years ago. That's not me being shy or introverted, that's just terrible parenting.

People like me. Whoa. I got fucking COMPLIMENTED for belting out Oh Suzannah in the most hokey ass, dramatic way possible when I decided to just stop giving a fuck.

Wild, right?

Fuck the dickbags of the world who want to shut you down and shut you up. Chances are, you are a brilliant fucking light and they can't stand the fact that you outshine them in every way.